


Sins of the Saviors

by JackBivouac



Series: Rise of the Runelords [4]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work, Pathfinder (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Animal Transformation, Bestiality, Bondage, Choking, Deer, Demon Sex, F/F, Furry, Gang Rape, Interspecies Sex, Loss of Virginity, Monsters, Multi, Other, Rape, Size Difference, Virgin Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-05-19 23:53:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19366192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackBivouac/pseuds/JackBivouac
Summary: Adventures in the frosty Rimeskull mountains above and Runeforge dungeons below





	1. Sacrificial Lamb

From the rocky eastern shoreline of Lake Stormunder, the ground rose into the snow-dappled roots of Rimeskull, casting its long shadow over the crags. Yet not all of the ground here wass rugged and mountainous. Several hundred feet from the lake’s edge, the land abruptly leveled off into a circular hill. Rocks and tenacious shrubs poked through scattered clumps of snow, dwarfed by the ring of seven ten-foot-tall stone heads that circled the hill’s edge, their faces angled inward at each other, mouths agape in hunger. 

This was the Sihedron Circle, once the site of the ancient Runeforge, a shared territory of the seven Runelords of Thassilon. Now it was naught but the tribute grounds for sacrifices paid by the land-bound villagers to their dragon tyrant Arkhryst. Every ten years, a virgin was selected from the village and bound naked to a stake at the center of those gaping faces.

This year, the unlucky virgin was the eighteen-year-old Moth. The sounds of her sobbing were whipped from her cheeks by the icy winds blasting down from the Rimeskull mountainside. 

An iron collar shackled her slender neck against the sturdy wooden stake. Her wrists were shackled behind the pole and bound again by the chain securing her waist. Her legs were free, not that a few bare-footed kicks would make any sent in the hide of the great white dragon.

White wings invisible against the overcast sky beat without a sound. But such was their strength that the wind of their motion threw the girl against the pole, rattling her bones, collar, and chains.

Moth's head banged against the wood. Stunned, her eyes forgot how to cry in the face of the huge, serpentine beast snaking out from the frigid white.

Tyrant Arkhryst was thirty-two feet of sinuous, white-scaled muscle from head to tail. But they landed with the grace of ghost in the snow, silent and seeming to drift over the frosted rock. They fixed upon the sacrificial virgin with a glacial blue stare.

"T-Tyrant," gasped the girl, "d-do you mean to eat me?"

"Of course," the dragon's voice hissed as sharp as steel. “After I’ve had my fun.”

Arkhryst reared up to their full height, baring the tapered length of their huge, monstrous cock. Moth screamed and cowered against the pole. 

The dragon let out a rasping chuckle. They hooked one clawed hand under either of her trembling legs. They lifted and spread them, forcing her thighs against the soft swell of her tits.

Moth continued straining, squirming in her iron bonds. There was no give from her collar, chain, or cuffs. They held her fast against the wood and utterly defenseless as the dragon's cold, white tongue scraped up and down her crotch like a deep-digging rope.

She gasped and cried at the pain, the unbearable pressure between her legs. Arkhryst was unmoved, forcibly grinding a gut-clenching heat into her kicking, writhing body. With her eyes and teeth shut in agony, throwing her head from side to side, the virgin was oblivious to the wetness the dragon's harsh ministrations drew from her tightening pussy.

The dragon, of course, could smell her pathetic slick. Arkhryst's nostrils dilated. They set the tapered tip of their enormous cock against the virgin's clenched pussy lips.

It was a pressure she couldn't ignore. Her eyes snapped open, bulging in fear. "N-no! Please!"

"You mean, 'yes, Tyrant.' 'Please, Tyrant,'" the dragon laughed. Then forced the head of their dick through her soft, virgin lips.

Rather than wait for her mouth to adjust to their girth, Arkhryst rammed up tiny shaft, fully penetrating her ripping, screaming body. As their head banged against the inner mouth of her virgin womb, Moth's pussy seized in feral desperation around the dragon's massive length, their girth visible through the skin of her stomach. Her entire body shook with the strain of her penetrated cunt trying with all its might to squeeze out its raping violator.

But the girl was no match for the monster claiming her virgin blood. Arkhryst growled low, shaking the bone of her breast with the rumbling sound, and pounded her upright against the stake that bound her. With their massive cock knocking the air from her lungs with their wall-ripping pistoning, Moth's mouth gaped in a silent scream, drool slopping from the corners of her mouth. Slick trapped by the dragon's girth slopping up and down their raping dick.

Her virgin pussy, squeezing wet and hard for all it was worth, suddenly wrapped skin-tight around Arkhryst's cock. Their head pounded directly into the sweetest, tightest spot of her gut-clenched shaft.

Even breathless, Moth squealed like a penetrated sow. Her forcibly crushed, curled body wracked with chain-rattling convulsions, orgasm after orgasm railing up from her well-beaten shaft. Her head banged mindlessly against the stake, eyes rolling back into her skull.

Arkhryst roared in delight at the tiny, wretched body shaking and clamping around their dick like a vise. Freezing cum exploded from their head into the virgin's womb, pumping the unconscious girl so full that her belly swelled as though pregnant.

Pathetic slut. The dragon couldn't wait to devour her cum-filled and cum-frosted body.


	2. The Tale of a Deer

Below the Sihedron Circle, a nymph crossed the portal into the Runeforge. The Runeforge, a demiplane, was held in a sphere of stone with a mile-long radius, but beyond was a maelstrom of nothingness, a black void extending forever and containing nothing but entropy.

The portal, however, opened into a massive domed chamber. At its heart was a large pool of bubbling, prismatic liquid upon a dais. The spiky flanges of the seven-pointed Sihedron were engraved into its marble floor. Each tip pointed at a twenty-five-foot statue, one for each of the seven runelords. 

Myr snuck as fast as she could from the dais into the shadows, but there was no way to hide the portal’s magic activation. The three horned and taloned guards on the perimeter of the marble dome above leapt from their perches into bat-winged flight.

The alu-demons resembled strikingly beautiful fanged women, each wearing little more than enchanted jewelry and more revealing than concealing garments. They were, however, effective guards. They flew past the sprinting nymph, cracking their enchanted whips.

The braided leather cut into Myr’s skin, and where it touched, it bound. Whip-coils lashed her arms tight to either side of her body and trussed her thighs together. The third hobbled her ankles.

The nymph tripped and fell, landing hard on her front and perfect face. The three alu-demons landed lightly on clicking talons around her, jeering laughter lilting from their painted lips.

“A nymph! Sisters, we caught a nymph!”

“Oh, how I hate the fey. They think they’re so beautiful, so fucking perfect.”

“Ah, but we know just the mage to fix that up!”

“Ordikon! Ordikon! Ordikon!” the three chanted together.

There was a large poof of glittery, magenta smoke scented of sultry spices. The smoke cleared around a short, hairless mage with unnaturally silver, shining skin. The transmuter had long ago turned his flesh to mithral.

Now, his shining face twisted into a snarl of exasperation and disgust. “I WAS WORKING!” he shrieked. “WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT BOTHERING ME DURING MY WORK?”

The alu-demons giggled and pressed their bodily curves against him.

“Come on, Ordi. Have a heart.”

“We wouldn’t call you unless it was important, Ordi.”

“Look, we caught an intruder. There hasn’t been an intruder in AGES. Turn her into something good for us, please, Ordi?”

“Ughhh,” Ordikon groaned, but he raised his hand toward the bound nymph.

Myr’s eyes stretched wide in fear. “No! Plea…!”

She never finished her pleading. A bolt of magic struck her between the eyes. Her entire body twisted and crunched. She screamed, the sound more animal than humanoid in her ears.

The binding whips fell from her warped, crushed body. Myr was alive. Breathing heavily, she stood on four trembling limbs. She was small, much smaller than she should’ve been. When she opened her mouth, the only sound she could make was a soft, herbivore’s grunt.

Myr was a doe, a deer, a female deer. She did the only thing she could do. Run.

The alu-demons laughed with delight and swooped up their whips. They flew after her, chasing her down the twisting corridors. Myr’s new form was fast, but their wings were faster.

Crack! Crack! Crack! Their binding whips coiled around her neck, her forelegs, her hindlegs. Myr fell to her side, legs jerking helplessly in the crushing coils of the whips.

The alu-demons landed on their clicking talons. They touched a hand to their clits with a dark chuckle. The tiny organs grew into long, girthy cocks.

The first sister pounced. She held Myr’s deer-form body against the tiled floor from behind. 

The second sister leapt over Myr’s head, grabbing hold of the whip around her neck. She pulled it tight, half-choking the doe with the threat of fully choking her if she didn’t submit to the cock the alu-demon forced into her muzzle.

The third sister landed in a squat behind Myr’s tail. She grabbed Myr by the bonds around her hindlegs as well as her tail and thrust her cock into her new, tiny deer’s anus.

Myr grunted and snorted onto the second sister’s dick, her eyes rolling wildly in agony. Her tight, animal anal shaft wasn’t meant to take such a massive, raping cock. Every brutal, wall-ripping pound was torment slamming against her guts.

But her ass’ tight heat was honey sweet to the alu-demon moaning away as she pistoned the deer into the floor. Seed gushed from her dick into that too-tight shaft. Myr’s animal anus milked her for every last drop.

The third sister switched places with the first. Only the third rammed her dick up the doe’s tiny pussy. The first held the kicking, writhing Myr down with the full weight of her body.

From either end, the furiously pumping alu-demons filled the hall with their heated moans and lusty cries. They dug their talons into Myr’s hide, bracing themselves against the explosive pleasure arching their backs and lancing them through to the tips of their horns and wings.

Cum burst from their cocks into the doe’s mouth and slickened pussy. Myr jerked and spasmed between them, cumming in the most shameful, feral orgasm she’d ever felt. It ripped every last shred of fey sentience from her mind until her animal body was nothing more than a bridge of quaking fuckmeat between the alu-demons filling her throat and womb with pleasuring seed.


	3. A Sinful Confrontation

The three alu-demons left Myr the doe lying in a puddle of their cum, coated from head to hoof in the sticky seed. They flew off laughing maliciously, but they took their binding whips with them.

Myr waited until all sound of them had died down. She staggered unsteadily onto her hooves, the alu-demons’ cum slicking the floor under her. She slipped and skid over the tile whenever she took a step too fast, but she had to keep going.

The corridor connected with a wide avenue flanked by crimson stone pillars. They ran down the center of a bright red chamber, its ceiling arching sixty feet above and wreathed in eternal flame. At the chamber’s heart, a huge seven-pointed star made of silver was engraved into the floor and surrounded by a circle of low-burning flame.

She was close, so close to the end she could taste it. But she had to pass over the silver star to get to the other side. Myr steeled her fluttering deer heart and gingerly hopped over the circle of flame.

Her hind hooves had barely cleared the circumference when the ring of fire surge upward into a towering wall of flame all around her. Myr let out high-pitched grunts of animal panic, galloping around in a wild circle within the flaming cage.

The fire parted in curtains around an unnatural silhouette from the outside. It was seven feet tall despite its hunch. Its long, clawed arms swung down past is knees. Its legs were back-bent like those of a dog, its feet taloned.

The hairless humanoid lurched through the curtain, revealing its most hideous feature. Its mouth was flanked not by mandibles but small, toothed arms with three-fingered hands. It was a sinspawn, a wrathspawn, wrath incarnate.

The mere sight of it paralyzed the doe’s panicked body with fear. She froze in place, piss trickling between her trembling hindlegs.

The wrathspawn let out a deep, husky laugh and seized her by the throat. The deer came alive in its choking fist, legs kicking wildly.

The wrathspawn caught her forelegs in its other hand. It threw them back, twisting the doe around in its grasp so that she now presented her kicking hindlegs. Her hooves fell on hardened flesh, leaving not a scratch.

The monster merely walked forward into her tailed ass. It wedged a long, bead-knobbled cock into the doe’s ass.

Myr’s kicking legs beat and scrambled over the floor as she huffed her screams. But the wrathspawn held her fast by the neck and now had her hooked by the dick pistoning her anal walls apart. Each thrust dragged its hardened beads of flesh across her sensitive inner flesh, tearing spasms into her anus.

The doe’s legs went limp under the monster’s brutal, raping assault. Her tongue lolled from her choking mouth.

The much larger wrathspawn leaned forward over her quivering back, continuing to pound the tiny shaft of her deer’s ass to a pulp. Its mouth’s arms seized Myr’s lower jaw and turned her muzzle to the side.

The monster sucked her muzzle into a heated, dizzying kiss. Its long tongue slithered down the doe’s constricted throat, completely stuffing and suffocating her.

Myr’s lungs burned. Her eyes rolled back into her skull. Her violated shafts squeezed deathly tight around her rapist’s tongue and cock. Her body jerked and convulsed between her penetrated holes, ripping the last shreds of consciousness from her animal brain.

The wrathspawn chuckled darkly into her slackened muzzle and pumped its vile, sinful seed into the unconscious deer’s anus.


	4. The End of the Deal

Orik discovered his transformed partner in the final corridor passed out on the silver star within a ring of smoking ash. He knelt beside her and drew his dagger. The thing about these baleful polymorph spells was that they broke at the first spill of blood. All he had to do was give her shoulder the slightest nick.

Her doe body transformed before his whiskey-amber eyes, twisting into the graceful curves of her true, fey flesh. A soft murmur escaped her lips, but she remained in a deep, reparative sleep.

“Thanks, Myr,” said Orik, hefting the naked nymph as gently as he could over his shoulder. After all, without her entering first to distract the Runeforge guards, he’d never have been able to sneak in afterward and nab the little vial now burning with the frozen heat of ice in his pocket.

He carried her to the end of the corridor and into a stale, stone laboratory. Lanterns hung from hooks over each of its four large operating tables. Stools and small steel work trays covered in slender knives, clamps, hooks, saws, screws, needles, and other more arcane implements surrounded each of them. Two tables were covered with preserved humanoid body parts that have been stitched together with thick thread to form an incomplete pair of patchwork corpses.

At a stool on the furthest table sat a withered-skinned lich, their spindly fingers at work stitching together the last pieces of one patchwork undead minion. Without raising their head, Kazaven pointed one needle-nailed finger at Orik. “Die, whelp.”

A razor-thin ray of black, necromantic magic burst from their fingertip, blasting him in the chest. Orik raised his head over the smoking hole in his armor, eyes aglow with an unholy red light. His uncommonly pale skin was perfectly untouched.

“Surprise, bitch,” grinned the vampire, baring his fangs.

“Fuck!” spat the lich, flying up from their worktable. 

Each of his patchwork minions, devourers, levitated up from their tables with them. They flew with mindless resolution at Orik, but both thinking parties in the room knew their necromantic attacks were utterly useless against one of their own undead ilk.

As Orik’s bastard sword chopped new surgeries into their floating, clawing bulks, Kazaven hurled wave after wave of lightning and magic missiles at the vampire.

He shifted on his heels, easily sidestepping the cracking bolt of lightning, but the missiles were unmissable. Each barrage, five missiles from either hand, followed his twisting steps.

Orik dived into a roll, the missiles whirling after him. As he came up, his hand closed around the vial in his pocket. He yanked the little glass tube up over his heart just as the missiles closed the gap between them.

The bolts slammed into the vial. It shuddered under their force but held until the final blow. By then, it was far too late to call off the unmissable strike.

“No!” screamed the lich.

Kazaven’s phylactery, impervious to all magic but their own, cracked. Orik crushed the compromised glass to smithereens in his fist. 

The screaming lich exploded into a cloud of ash, their minions splattering to the floor. The ash coated the entire laboratory and every object and person within it.

“Ah-CHOO!” the nymph sneezed awake, jolting over Orik’s shoulder.

He shifted her off his shoulder and into his arms, holding her like the fey princess she would always be in his eyes. “Good morning, Myr.”

“Orik! Is-is it…?” She could hardly dare to say the words.

“It’s done. We’re done. We’re home free. We can go back, collect the bounty, and then, heck, you can do whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?” Myr burst into a delighted, slightly manic laugh. Whatever she wanted. “Right now, all I want is to get the Hells out of this fucking Runeforge.”

Orik chuckled and pulled her close. He nodded over the top of her head. “You got it, partner.”

Everything else could wait until tomorrow.


End file.
